Twisted
by Valerie Blake
Summary: As a Mental Healer, Hermione Granger has taken a Vow to help anyone who asks for it. That was before Draco Malfoy walked into her office. A tale of coffee stains, angst, romance, and Healer-Patient Confidentiality.
1. Chapter 1

All characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I just play with them.

**Twisted**

"Think of your head as an unsafe neighborhood; don't go there alone."

― Augusten Burroughs, Dry

Chapter 1

When things cause you anxiety, you should generally not seek them out. This is common knowledge, and Hermione was quite fond of knowledge. Yet, she still continued her begrudging steps towards her office, reassuring herself that she was not a buck-toothed eleven year old anymore. No one could make her feel anything without her consent. Not even Draco Malfoy.

_Draco Malfoy. _Just thinking of the name made her skin crawl and obscenities beg to slip from her mouth. Obscenities she wouldn't have dared to utter if he hadn't been for the slimy git who taught them to her in the first place. _Draco _bloody _Malfoy _isn't exactly a common name. That's why when her secretary had floo'd over her new patient's file, she'd nearly thrown up her lunch from the shock. Thankfully she had an entire drawer stocked with Calming Draught (for the patients, if you must know), because she highly doubted her stale crackers with cheese would be any better the second time. After rereading the file at least a dozen times, she was still a little woozy.

After the war had ended, St. Mungo's had received hundreds of owls inquiring about psychiatric help. As a wizard hospital, they had a serious lack of mental health protocol and were forced to take in applications and train prospective counselors. This is where Hermione came in. A little over four years ago she had applied, and a little over four years ago was the last time she saw Draco Malfoy.

Until today. That's right, kids. Draco bloody Malfoy was seeking out _mudblood _Hermione Granger's help with his psyche. This was possibly the most ironic thing that could possibly happen in actual life, and she couldn't enjoy it due to the fact that it was happening to her.

Hermione paused outside the Mental Health Clinic entrance in the hospital, smoothing her business robes and patting the twist in her hair to make sure The Bush (as Ron had taken to calling it) had not escaped. Deep breaths. You cannot attack a patient. That's all he is, a patient. Murder is illegal.

"Are you going to go in or are you expecting the doors to open all by themselves?" Hermione jumped at the sound of silky drawl, emitting a slightly mortifying squeak in surprise. She usually preferred her silent pep talks to go unnoticed by strangers. Turning to try to the man to explain herself, she felt her expression go slack as she realized who it was. No, this wasn't a stranger. This was worse. She watched recognition pass through his steely eyes and all the color that had drained from his already pale face seemed to go into hers. His mouth opened, and then closed, becoming a stern line that rivaled their ex-Professor McGonagall's. As the seconds passed she was able to fully take him in, and to see what damage the years had done to him.

His usually translucent skin had become a sickly grey, the dark bruises under his bloodshot eyes seemed to be the only color he had. His white hair slicked back as usual, his once elegant black robes now looked frayed, and he seemed to be seriously underweight. She was looking at a ghost.

The pause had given her time to recover, and he seemed shocked as she flashed him a grim but professional smile, gesturing for him to enter ahead of her, greeting him with, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. You're early." He stared for a moment longer before regaining his pride and sweeping into the hall in a manner so similar to his late god-father, she almost laughed. Almost.

She brushed past him through the dimly lit hall, muttering the charm that ignited the gas lampsthrough each doorway that she past. Hermione was always the first to arrive and last to leave, and her first appointments of the day were usually follow-ups on older clients who she knew well enough to know that they wouldn't suddenly assault her. This was different. Draco Malfoy was a wild-card, since their graduation, his bad boy exploits in the papers had constantly threatened his family's efforts to convince the public that they had been reformed. He was unpredictable and Hermione hated the unknown.

"I'll get your paperwork." She called over to her shoulder to a still-silent Malfoy. He was probably fuming over the fact that his servants hadn't told him the Healer's name before he had come. She was positive he hadn't known she would be Healing him, or else he wouldn't be here. She rifled through some papers on her desk before coming across what she needed before grabbing a quill and clipboard as well. "Have a seat." She met his eye and gestured to the sofa in front of her chair. He sat down.

"Where's the Healer?" He finally spoke, his voice sounded gruffer than she remembered.

"You're looking at her." She responded, sitting down in front of him. "If you have a problem with that, you'll have to owl the agency, but you won't be able to get a different appointment for a month." She raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

He clenched his jaw, not meeting her eyes. "Just get on with it." He snapped. She sat back, surprised.

"Well, alright. I don't think an introduction is needed. You can call me Ms. Granger and I will call you Mr. Malfoy. This will be strictly professional. I have made an Unbreakable Vow that anything said in this room may not be spoken outside of it and not at all with a non-Healer without your consent. Do you understand?" He jerked his head forward, still not meeting his eyes. His posture was defensive, his body language tense.

"I'll be asking some questions now that where no asked during your Background Evaluation. These will be more in-depth. The more verbose your response, the easier this will be for both of us." He jerked his head again, this time meeting her eyes. His eyes were like melted silver, always moving even when he was still. She glanced down at her clipboard, the form was already half filled out with the basic information her secretary, Margo, had filled out and read the first question. "Why are you here today?"

He mumbled back a response, his posture shifted and his chin jutted out in arrogance. "Pardon?" She asked, leaning in. He glanced up quickly, scorching her with his eyes. His hard face twisting around the words as if it physically pained him to say them – it probably did-

"My magic is gone."

* * *

Author's Note: Welcome to Twisted. I am honored to have you have read this entire chapter, and would be pretty darn-tootin' ecstatic if you'd review. I'm pretty pumped for this story and as for how you feel… tell me about it, stud(;

-Val


	2. Chapter 2

Characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them.

**Twisted**

"Whose are all these ghosts?" she said, smiling at a flustered-looking Geraldine.

"Oh," said Geraldine, "I think they might be mine...?"

― Diane Hall

Chapter 2

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she stared at Malfoy, the only sound in the room was him fiddling with his nails as he refused to break eye contact.

"What do you mean?" She asked, giving in when she realized he wasn't going to elaborate.

"I mean, Granger, that my bloody magic is gone." He snapped, his eyes igniting with some of their old spark. "Thought the goddamn _Brightest Witch of Her Age _would have worked out how to listen by now."

"When did you notice that you were incapable of following through on a spell?" She asked, choosing to ignore his insult.

"After the war." He answered. The war… _that _war?

"The war?! B-but-" she sputtered, "That was nearly six years ago!"

He glared, "No shit."

"Why are you just seeking help now?" She inquired, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"None of your fucking business. Next question." And the blank expression was back. Even without his magic, the Great Malfoy still expected others to serve him. She sighed, annoyed, but read the next question. The more she found out, the more she could try to understand him. She had no doubt that Malfoy would be her toughest case yet.

"How often do you drink?"

"None of your business." She crossed through a line.

"Smoke?"

"None of your business." Another cross.

"Engage in unprotected sex?"

"What is up with all these fucking questions? I told you, none of my life is any of your goddamn business, Granger." He shouted at her, rising from the couch.

"_Ms._ Granger." She snapped, rising as well. "I am a Healer for the mind. A therapist. _Your _therapist. Therefore, it is my business. I have taken a Vow to help anyone that asks for it, and I am going to help you whether you like it or not! Do you think I want to listen to my childhood tormentor's problems? Of course not!" She snarled, no longer holding her tongue. "Outside this room, you can look down on me for my blood and I'll despise you for your attitude, but in this room you must respect me. This is purely professional, nothing more." She huffed, her fists clenched and the clipboard lay at her feet, forgotten.

"Professional?" He laughed without amusement, "That's a load of shit! You're trying to get into my fucking skull, and it won't work! Don't you think I've had enough of that throughout the years?"

"What do you want? Pity?" Hermione mocked. "The Prince of Slytherin is now a squib, well isn't that just like karma? If you don't want my help, then why are you here?" She bit out.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, the tension in the air tangible. Both were flushed with anger, and Malfoy had a vein pulsing in his forehead. His usually slick hair had become spiked and Hermione's had come down sometime during the shouting match, frizzing out around her. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, and she felt humiliated in her immaturity. Malfoy let out a gush of air, his hands unclenching and his anger seeming to give out in him.

"I don't know." He whispered, sounding like a child.

"Then I think our session is over with, Mr. Malfoy. Please leave my office."

The door shut loudly behind him.

Needless to say, Hermione did not think Malfoy would schedule another appointment. In which case, it would be quite silly to send the unfinished and discarded paperwork over to her boss. Silly and completely unnecessary, it wasn't even a proper session. It was rather as if her new patient had never even bothered to show up, and so that's what she told her Head of Department. It wasn't even that much of a lie. Truly.

Hermione was embarrassed. She saw the man who stood by and watched as she was tortured, for the first time in years, and all she did was shout and make it seem like she couldn't even do her job right. It reminded her of third year, when she had slapped him. Due to her muggle upbringing, quick-thinking situations usually made her forget that she could do magic altogether, and instead she turned to her more carnal instincts. It was pathetic. However, this time wouldn't have ended differently even if she had remembered the wand in her pocket. Malfoy was unable to produce magic, and she could never attack a man unprotected. She wasn't him.

Even though she was certain he was no longer her patient, she couldn't resist her curiosity. A wizard losing his magic… that was absurd! She had never, in all her years of perusing the library, come across anything that had even insinuated the topic. But that was Hogwarts, and while insanely dangerous and containing easily broken wards, it was still a school. The library at St. Mungo's had quite a bit of more controversial topics, even a few shelves dedicated to the Dark Arts.

This was the reason that Hermione had spent yet another Saturday night (that was quickly fading into the early hours of Sunday morning) searching by candlelight. She needed _anything _that would explain Malfoy's loss, or at least to have searched enough that she was sure there was nothing there. Maybe then she could rest. Or at least convince herself that she didn't care. She sighed, exasperated with her search and wiped her dusty hands on her faded denim jeans. When not in the office or Wizarding World, Hermione was as muggle as ever in her attire. After the war, she had begun wearing some of her mother's old clothes from her teenage years. While vintage and cute, it was also a type of comforting technique. If she couldn't have her mother, she could at least have her clothes and her scent.

Hermione silently chided herself for getting distracted and continued her search throughout the ancient tomes. The sooner she found what she was looking for, the sooner she could remove all aspects of Malfoy from her mind. It bothered her that she was worried so much about his appearance. He looked like a corpse. She tried to brush off her care as nothing more than the fact that she was his Healer and it was her job. She cared about everyone who walked into her office an equal amount. Truly. But that didn't stop a traitorous voice in her head from interjecting, "_Oh really? Then why aren't you sitting here worried about Lavender Brown's husband's affair?"_

The worst thing about working at a hospital was the ghosts. Many minds go to rest in hospitals, both the gentle and the deranged. Unfortunately, the deranged tended to be more prone to staying in this life as a Shade. She thought of this when a chill slithered down her spine and she sensed a presence behind her. She squirmed but continued reading the fading and cracked spines of the books in front of her. This was nothing new.

A loud crash startled Hermione and she spun quickly around, drawing her wand in hopes of frightening the Shade into leaving her alone. A window in the library swung back and forth on it hinge, the red in the stain-glass looked sinister in the moonlight. A cold gust of wind swept throughout the library, ruffling the papers on a desk in front of her. Her candle's light flickered threateningly before going out. Creaking sounds of footsteps approached her slowly and purposefully. She heard an undignified whimper horribly too close to her, and it took a moment for her to gather that the sound had come from herself. Her lungs ached and she took in a shaky gasp when she realized that she hadn't been breathing. She whispered _lumos, _trying to convince herself that what didn't exist couldn't hurt her.

Nothing.

She waved her wand throughout the large library, looking for any sign of what she just experienced. The window was closed. The desk of papers untouched by the wind. The candle's light shined as brightly as ever. _Nothing. _Was she that tired? No. Even in her darkest memories of the war, she had never hallucinated. She was about to whisper _nox _when glint of silver on the plush dark blue carpet caught her eye. She picked it up gingerly and inspected it. A flicker of recognition flashed inside of her as she stared at a children's sized silver thimble.

Oh, that's fantastic. A bloody seamstress was haunting her.

Author's note: Hey! Okay. Wow. I didn't really expect any type of feedback whatsoever with this so I'm very taken aback and pleased with the follows/favorites/reviews I got! So this was a jam-packed chapter and while I'm a little hesitant about doing that so close to the beginning, I thought about it and decided to keep it. Please tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them.

**Twisted**

"Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops." -Cary Grant

Chapter 3

Hermione wasn't quite sure where she was, but she was sure that her back hurt. A lot. Another thing that she was sure of was that the sun had no right to be shining so brightly this early in the morning. Wait… morning… what day was it? Her head shot up, causing something in her neck to crack. She winced rubbing her shoulder with one hand and searching for her wand with the other. Once her eyes had adjusted to the bright room, she realized that she had fallen asleep on her office. Again.

After her meeting with the Shade, she had grabbed an armful of books and scrolls and retired to her office. Her "quick glance through" had turned into a "skim" which ended with her passing out on her desk just in time to glimpse the sunrise. Her office was designed to be cozy and comforting to her patients, with a deep burgundy couch and mahogany wood floors that matched the desk. The walls were a melting chocolate, ordained with her awards and accomplishments. If the room didn't relax her patients, then maybe knowing that she was more than qualified would.

An insistent noise near her window reminded her of what had woken her up in the first place. Ron Weasley's owl, Pig, appeared to be trying to imitate a tap against the glass. However, since Pig was very small and very hyper, he seemed to just be slamming his body against the window frame. Hermione sighed and hurried to answer the post, a little worried that Pig would hurt himself in his attempts to get her attention. Like most Sundays, Hermione was late to the hebdomadally scheduled Weasley brunch. She undid the latch for window and took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, glad that the air was getting cooler.

"Hey there, Pig." She murmured, smiling slightly at his excited _hoot _in response. Once she had taken his letter, he flew past her into her workplace, perching on her desk in wait for her reply. Ron's clumsy scrawl flew across the yellowed parchment in a rush, giving her a clue of how late she really was,

_ Mione-_

_ Don't make me suffer through the bumbling babies without you. Hurry, love!_

_ -R_

Hermione made a noise in sympathy; she had forgotten that they had agreed to bring the youngest of the Potter-Weasley families today. Fleur and Bill were bringing three year old Victorie along, while Harry and Ginny were bring an almost six year old Teddy Lupin. Before Remus and Tonk's tragic death, Harry had agreed to be the godfather of newborn Teddy. This meant that hours after The Final Battle, Molly Weasley was giving parenting tips to a shaky Boy Who Lived. Harry was busy with the rebuilding of Hogwarts and auror training for the first couple of months, during which Teddy stayed with his grandmother and Molly. But, surprising everyone (including his then fiancé), as soon as Harry was settled, Teddy was under his care permanently. Harry just gave a vague remark on how everyone needs a stable home, and few dared to ask any questions after that.

Hermione cursed, glancing at her watch – _she was __**tha**__t late?! – _and wandlessly _accio_-ed her cloak into her hands. She cleared her throat from any morning rasp and grasped a handful of floo powder from the purple satchel atop the mantle. She doubled checked her wand's presence in her pocket and shouted, "The Burrow!" before stepping into the flames.

Her feet were pulled out from under her, and she tucked elbows into her chest. Her stomach churned and she recalled the sensation of going down a muggle waterslide. She held her breath, wary of any ash, and changing lights flashed against her closed lids. Not as soon as she would have liked, she felt her feet hit solid ground, and let out a breath of relief.

"Hermione's here!" She heard Ginny call to the others, and she carefully ducked her hand under the chimney, shaking the soot from her fluff of hair. She beamed at the younger redhead in front of her, taking in the scents of pumpkin pie and pot-roast simmering in the kitchen. Stepping into The Burrow was like stepping into the warm embrace of a mother.

"Ginny!" She greeted, quickly turning her wand upon herself and muttering, "_Tergo," _to clean herself up. "How've you been?" She asked, drawing Ginny into a tight hug.

"Good, I'm glad you're finally here!" Ginny exclaimed, holding Hermione at arm's length and inspecting her. Her warm amber eyes paused a moment too long on the wrinkles of Hermione's top and the bags under her eyes. "You're working too much, Mione." Ginny gave a sad sort of smile, "You need sleep. At your _home._ How are you and Ron?" She asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "We're good, and you'd already know if we weren't! You and that husband of yours gossip like old women." She winked, poking Ginny's side. The red head swatted her hand away with a giggle, not bothering to disagree.

"Well now that you've graced us with your presence, we can eat! Harry and I have news." Ginny's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"No!" Hermione gasped and inspected Ginny's face, "Ginevra! No way!" Her beautiful friend was glowing, and it didn't take a know-it-all to figure out what the news was.

"Oh, come on, Mione!" Ginny whined. "It's no fun if you guess it!" She pouted. Hermione mimed locking her mouth shut and throwing away the key.

"Mum's the word." She smirked. "Oomph!" She gasped as something tackled her legs.

"Aunt Maya!" Teddy squealed, burrowing his head into Hermione's stomach. Every time she saw Teddy, he looked completely different. Different eyes, hair, nose; the only thing that wasn't dependent on his metamorphoses was his general height and weight. Of course, considering her was a growing little boy, that didn't help matters at all. Currently, his hair stuck out in tuffs of curly neon green.

"Teddy-bear! Oh, I missed you!" She saw him a little over a week ago, but in the Weasley family, that was practically a month. She tickled him and he giggled, "C'mon, give me a kiss!" He pressed his lips on her cheek with a smacking noise and she laughed, wiping off his spit on her cloak. Without him running at her, she could properly see his face and see what he looked like today. "Oh…" She breathed as he grinned at her.

"It hasn't changed since the awards." Harry informed her as he entered, wrapping an arm around his wife. The witches and wizards who had died fighting on the side of the Light's families had all received an Order of Merlin, First Class in honor of their loved ones. The awards were almost two weeks ago at the Ministry, and they had shown pictures of each soldier as they presented them. Harry had pointed out Remus to Teddy, and almost instantaneously, his features changed into his father's. Teddy had finally learned to control his metamorphism.

"Hermione's here!" Molly shouted as she saw her, drawing her into an embrace. Molly Weasley had taken Hermione into the family years ago, and her hug was more familiar to Hermione than her own mother's was. Hermione flinched a little at that thought, ignoring it quickly and hugging Molly back tightly. She always smelled like brown sugar. "Come on dear, into the kitchen, let's get lunch going! You need to start coming around for supper more often during the week, you're too thin. Do they even feed you at that hospital of yours?" Molly asked, half distracted and half scolding, as always.

"They take pretty good care of us, but I might have to take you up on that offer!" Hermione laughed. "Merlin knows Ron and I can't cook to save our lives."

"Or mine!" Harry chuckled, helping Molly carry the dishes in. The dining room had been further magically expanded since Hermione was here last week, thankfully. It gave them more room to breathe. Sunday lunch was usually hosted by Molly and Arthur and attended by the Potters, Bill and Fleur, Percy, George, and Ron and Hermione. Recently, however, Percy and George had started bringing their girlfriends as well, which called for another expansion. Percy was seeing a woman from his office who was equally as successful and equally as boring, named Audrey. George was another matter.

After his twin, Fred, had died in the war, George seemed to drop off the face of the planet. He would be gone for weeks at a time, leaving the joke shop to be run by a worried Lee Jordan. He would claim he was just "clearing his head," but the pictures in the papers said otherwise. George had always been the more reserved of the two, navigating the plots instead of steering them, but after the war he had been forced to fill the holes in his personality that Fred's death had left. He filled the holes with Firewhiskey and sex. Needless to say, Arthur had not been overjoyed to learn about his son's bisexuality through a photo in _The Daily Prophet _of him exploring Blaise Zabini's mouth very thoroughly. If you'd picture a Sunday lunch consisting of a very hungover George being told by his family that they support him no matter what gender he loves, as long as he would just love one person, then you'd get the gist of it.

After his mother had forced George to visit Hermione during office hours, he seemed to get a bit better. Nothing helped him as much as catching up with Angelina did, however. She had just returned from being a Chaser for the Roma Raven's Quidditch team (which she seemed to join immediately after the war, and Hermione recognized her own technique of getting lost in her work) and took up a job at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Suddenly, George was going to work again and seen less and less in the papers. Not long afterwards was he introducing his old friend as his girlfriend at Sunday lunch.

Long arms snaked around Hermione's waist, startling her from her thoughts. "Glad to see you." Ron whispered, kissing her cheek.

"Hey, there." She smiled, wrapping her arms around his and leaning into his embrace. Ever since she and Ron had made it official, she never felt like an intruder. She gazed fondly and at her heart's family, as they all ran around and spoke over each other. Chaos was ever present with the Weasleys, had she had grown to love it.

"All right, kids!" Molly called from her husband's side at the table, "Everyone, sit down! George, don't encourage Teddy! Oh Merlin, what's that on Victorie's chin? Where's Percy?"

"Couldn't make it." Arthur answered, already seated at the head of the table. "It's Audrey's parent's turn for Sunday."

"I don't see why they couldn't just come here as well, but never mind then. Everyone well?" Hermione looked around and nodded from her spot in-between Ginny and Ron, everyone else nodded as well. Seated on the other side of Arthur was Bill and Fleur, Victorie sitting on Fleur's lap. Then sat Angelina (who was playing peek-a-boo with Victorie) and George (who was staring lovingly at Angelina). Seated next to Molly on the other side were Harry, Teddy, and Ginny, then Hermione and Ron. "All right, then!" Molly clapped her hands, "Tuck in!"

Everyone began their own conversations, and Hermione was content to listen and get lost in her own thoughts. Ron had a hard time making conversation while he was distracted by food, and she had a lot on her mind. While she had felt chills and seen apparitions before in the library, nothing like that had ever happened. She had heard rumors, when she first began working at the clinic, of the lost souls who targeted certain witches and wizards. They haunted them specifically, asking for things or threatening them. What happened last night certainly felt threatening, but if it was a child like the small thimble suggested, what harm could it do? She needed to figure it out, but she couldn't do that while at the Burrow. As for Malfoy… well, she didn't want to think about that right now.

"'Ermione," Fluer asked while serving Victorie some mashed potatoes, pulling Hermione out of her own head, "'Ow iz your work at zee 'ospeetle?" Ron likes to joke that Fleur thickens her accent purposefully, just to show how _extraordinaire_ she is. Hermione use to scold him, in light of how much she helped when they stayed at Shell Cottage and during The Final Battle, but sometimes she can't help but to privately agree.

"It's going really well, thank you." She smiled, "I think I might have recently met my toughest case yet, but I suppose time will tell." Ron paused in his shoveling of food down his throat to spare her a worried glance. Hermione gave his leg a quick squeeze under the table to reassure him.

"I don't know how you do eet." Fleur shrugged, "I am so busy with Victorie - I can't eemageene working!" Hermione made a neutral noise, and flashed a brief tight lipped smile at the beautiful French girl.

"Speaking of working," Angelina spoke up, "I was at a Quidditch banquet, talking to Chudley Canon's manager-" Ron's head shot up and Angelina paused, grinning at his obvious enthusiasm –"and he seemed very interested in getting Ronald Weasley out of retirement and back in the game." Everyone stopped their own conversations, their attention being grasped by this one. The men and Ginny were all grinning at Ron, while Molly and Fleur were sending Hermione worried glances. She set her fork down, food uneaten, and made an effort to beam at Ron. Ron looked like a child told that Christmas was five months early this year.

"That's great!" She reached for his hand, "Are you going to meet with him?"

"Well, I don't know." His eyes were wide as he searched her face, looking for any sign of displeasure. He wasn't going to receive it. This was his dream, and of all that was said about Hermione, no one could say she was an idiot. "If you think it's a good idea…?" He trailed off hopefully.

"I think it's brilliant, but I'll support you no matter what you do." She said softly, glad that the rest of the family was at least pretending to resume their own conversations, giving a small illusion of privacy.

"I guess I ought to at least meet him! Who knows, I'm not as fit as I use to be, he may regret meeting me!" He laughed, but they both knew it was futile. Ron was the Keeper on their community's Quidditch league, similar to a muggle's club team. He was probably more fit than he was in school, and his maturing gave him a better sense of self-confidence and patience.

Hermione made it an effort to have the rest of the lunch go smoothly, making small talk with George about his shop and Molly about the garden. She knew that Ron would broach the subject once they got back to their shared apartment, but that didn't stop her from trying. They moved in together almost sixth months into their relationship, but it didn't really change anything. She was obsessed with her work, and he had Quidditch and work at the Ministry as an Interspecies Magic Communicator. To sum his job up, he makes sure problems like Goblins hating all Wizards and Giants siding with Voldemort, never happen again. She was very proud of him for choosing that as a profession, but now she wasn't quite so sure.

"Alright, everybody!" Harry called, standing. "Before we start with dessert, my lovely wife and I have an announcement." He took Ginny by the hand and gently tugged her up beside him, pulling her into an embrace.

"Oh thank Merlin." Hermione heard Molly mutter, sensing as well as Hermione on what was about to be said. Everyone gazed at the young couple expectantly.

"I'm pregnant!" Ginny cried, beaming. George let out a wolf-whistled and Molly shushed him, tears streaming down her face as she bustled her way through to Harry and Ginny to pull them into what seemed to be a _very _tight hug. Ron seemed to be choking, while Arthur just sat there for a moment, a dazed expression in his eyes.

"Congratulations, Ginny!" Hermione said, hugging the couple once Molly was done with them. Bill shook Harrys hand and Fleur kissed Ginny on the cheek, saying something about baby shopping together.

"This is bloody weird, not gonna lie." Ron told Harry, finally recovering from his shock.

"Language, Ronald." Called his mother over her shoulder, as she rushed to get some Firewhiskey.

"But I'm happy for you, mate." Ron continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Blimey, my baby sister… is having a baby!" Ginny laughed and hugged him.

"I guess this is it." Arthur said, rising. Everyone turned their attention to him, and Hermione saw Harry pale slightly out of the corner of her eye. "I can no longer say I'm middle-aged. My baby girl is all grown up. I am old." Everyone laughed at his announcement.

"Oh, Arthur, hush. You won't be old until you have a beard as long as Dumbledore's!" Molly patted her husband's chest, enchanting several glasses to go around to everyone for a toast, and handing Ginny one already filled with Gillywater. "This will help the baby grow up nice and tall." She instructed. Ginny rolled her eyes but accepted the glass anyway.

"All right, everyone?" Arthur asked. Everyone nodded, arms wrapped around their significant other and glasses of Firewhiskey in hand. "Ginny and Harry," He began, and they smiled at him, "I think of you both as my children - yes even you, Ginny - and I am so proud of you both. It's been a rough couple of years, but I can rest easy knowing that the people in this room have made this world a better place for my grandchildren to live in. To new life!"

"To new life!" They all chorused, and drank.

Author's note: Hey there! So I wrote a bit more today (yay) so please leave a review! Tell me what you think, if you love it and even if you hate it. As long as you tell me why so I can either fix it or decide not to care. If you tell me it's rotten with no good reason, I'll be a bit put out. ALSO, you may be wondering, "Valerie, how the hecky ding dang doodle-y are you going to write a Dramione story when she's clearly in a loving relationship with Ron?" Well, babydolls, you shall see. I have this all planned out. *insert sinister chuckle here* Hope you liked it!

-Val


	4. Chapter 4

All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them.

**Twisted**

"There ain't no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it."

― Kate DiCamillo, Because of Winn-Dixie

Chapter 4

"'Mione," Ron started as soon as they apparated home. She quickly twisted out of Ron's grasp and ignored him.

"I'll make some tea, yeah?" She called and she hurried to the kitchen. It was ridiculous to think that she could escape him – and the talk that was sure to come – when they lived in the same place, but she couldn't fight the impulse to run.

"Sure, but we still need to talk about this." Ron said, following behind her. If their apartment was small, then their kitchen was _tiny. _The fame that had come after war provided many fortunes, but considering that Ron was used to being poor and Hermione was very level-headed, they tried to be frugal with the earnings. They had each donated quite a bit to the health funds of the children who had been bitten, the rebuilding process of Hogwarts, the homes for those left without parents, and political insurance of new laws would be passed. Hermione herself had written quite a few that could help bring about equality of species. The boys liked to joke about how far her old S.P.E.W. campaign had come, but she knew they saw the essentiality of it all.

"Of course, Ronald." Hermione tried for a smile but turned to face the stove when she felt it turn into a grimace. There was no running - although, she did briefly entertain the thought of stripping down and distracting him with his more basic needs.

"If I meet with the manager-"

"Did you ever get his name?" Hermione cut him off. If she was lucky it would be some long-lost rival, then they wouldn't have to deal with this at all.

"Uh, yeah actually. He's new." Ron was obviously trying to keep the name from her. This was one of the easier things about being in a serious relationship with him; his emotions were always written plain across his face. She never had to guess or assume what he was feeling. With him, she knew everything.

"And?" She prompted.

"It's uh, Seamus Finnigan." He cleared his throat and looked up at her through his lashes. She sighed and gently poured water into her mother's old teapot, her hands shaking. Hermione decided to not respond and finish the preparation for tea. He hated it when she retreated into her head during a conversation, and she knew that. She just couldn't help it at that moment.

When all she had left to do was to wait for the heat to bring the water to a boil, she took Ron's hand and led him to the kitchen table, refusing to meet his eyes as she sat down. "You're going to make the team." She whispered, looking at their joined hands atop of the table. "Then you're going to leave me." He made some noise of disagreement, but she smiled sadly as she shook her head. "No, don't try to deny it. I'm okay with it. This is your dream, and I love you," her voice rose to a normal tone as she found the words she needed so desperately to say, "and so I'm going to let you leave. And when you come back, I'll be here."

"Are you sure? That's almost a year that I'd be on tour, Hermione. Nine months. I can't ask that of you." Ron argued, but she knew he didn't mean it. He was thrilled. It was written all over his face, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up. He was the pure personification of what it meant to be a Gryffindor.

"I know that, that's why I'm telling you. I can wait on us; Merlin knows I waited four years." She rolled her eyes at him, an easy smile lifting the corners of her lips.

"But-" A high pitched whistle interrupted him, thankfully. She wasn't sure she would be able to say no if he offered to stay.

"Tea's ready" She announced, ending the discussion.

Other than Ron informing her that he had scheduled a meeting for the following afternoon, Hermione had thankfully diverted any form of renewal regarding their former topic of conversation. The next morning, she quietly untangled her legs with Ron's and left him snoring away while she got ready for work. She showered and dressed in a trance, unable to think of anything but his departure yet unable to stomach actually analyzing it. The meeting was today, he would probably be gone by the end of the month. He deserved to accomplish his dream, and there was nothing she could do about it. No matter what the traitorous voice in the back of her head argued. She charmed some makeup on to hide the remains of a sleepless night, and pinched her cheeks in effort to look cheery. No doubt they'd be having a celebration tonight, complete with dinner and friends asking her too many questions that she didn't know the answer to. She glanced at her watch and winced, rushing through the rest of her beauty regimen and insuring a day full of bushy hair. She chugged a cup of coffee at the ready pot on her way out, leaving enough for Ron. A thing she learned on her first day, never Apparate with an unsealed beverage.

She checked the protection wards of the apartment briefly, and then was down the street from her office. Hermione knew she didn't have an appointment until that afternoon, but she wanted to continue her research on Malfoy's dilemma. Her pace was more brisk than usual, but she tried to pretend it was her curiosity rather than her craving to be distracted. Once near the hospital she greeted a fellow co-worker who was approaching the building as well, offering him a smile as he opened the door for her. The fact that other people were arriving as well reminded Hermione of how late she actually was. A habit she had picked up during her Healer training, the quirk was so unlike her usual attitude, her fellow students had thought something had happened to her. She laughed it off, saying she picked it up from the Weasley's, but it just went to show how much the war had really changed her. Seeing so much death and destruction made her priorities change, and while she was still quite motivated, she wasn't as anal-retentive as she used to be.

The long hallway was empty and dark, as usual, and she wrinkled her nose a little when she realized that it wasn't her with the weird timing today, but rather her co-worker. She didn't know him by name but saw him quite frequently in the halls or at meetings, but their only interaction had been fleeting smiles or nods.

"You're early today." She remarked, but the only response was the clack of her heels against the wood. "Sir?" She asked, wondering if her seemingly polite co-worker was distracted or if she had unknowingly offended him. Again, there was no response. She turned, a little annoyed and not at all in the mood to deal with this. Expecting a glaring man or something to warrant a lack of civility, she was instead greeted with an empty and dark hall, the rooms that she had previously lit had blown out.

"Not this again." She muttered, casting a _lumos maxima _to light the hall. Completely empty "Sir?" She yelled, quickly checking each door they had passed and growing more nervous with each empty room she left. "_Homenum revelio!"_ She shouted. Nothing. "Who are you?" Hermione asked, the anger in her voice fighting for dominance over her fright. "Are you a child or… what do you want?!" The sound of a door opening and closing startled her, and the gas lamps that had been blown out lit once again. one by one, getting closer to her. "_What do you want?!_" She demanded, her tone embarrassingly close to a shriek.

"Well," a deep slow voice came behind her, "I was hoping to apologize." This time she really did shriek. She jumped around, her hand coming up to her throat. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly that she could hear it pulsing in her eardrum. Hermione had her wand out immediately at the dark figures throat, and it jumped back, raising it's hands in surrender. In her hysteria, she didn't realize that these actions were hardly those of a ghost and instead were those of a man. "Calm down, Granger!" The figure demanded. "I'm not bloody Voldemort." His tone became mocking. She cast a noverball _lumos _that revealed the smirking and annoyed face of Draco Malfoy.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Her shock unfortunately left out the malice she had intended for her words. She tried to ignore the fact that her question had come out breathless and hoarse by quickly igniting the rest of the rooms with a flourish. She turned and unconsciously inspected him, slightly irked with the worry that washed through her when she saw that he was in the same falling-apart state that he was previously in. The bruises under his eyes seemed darker, which she didn't think was possible. He wore black trousers and a grey button-up, the cuffs rolled up to his forearms. Any muscle that he was given during his years of playing Quidditch had completely vanished, leaving him a skeleton.

"Didn't you hear me over all your screaming?" His eyebrow lifted in a silent inquiry but she ignored it, no way in hell was she telling the brat that she was scared of a ghost. She shook her head and crossed her arms. "I am here to apologize."

"Yes, your sneering face and rude tone are the absolute epitome of apologetic, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes, walking past him in way to her office. Still, she was surprised. A Malfoy, apologizing? To _her, _of all people?

"Listen, Granger, I didn't mean all that. I'm just a little pissed off that the one person I'm supposed to actually trust to help me is one-third of the goddamn _Golden Trio_." She glanced at him as she unlocked her door the muggle way, to see his face twisting around the last few words, his hand coming up to brush back his unmoved bangs. She found herself amused to see that Malfoy had a nervous tick; it almost made him appear to be human. "So if you could _please _look past my behavior I can _attempt _to look past the horrid animals you keep for company." And then he had to open his mouth and turn back into the cowardly snake that he was.

She lit her office and sat on the edge of her desk, choosing not to sit in her chair for the sake of not wanting to have Malfoy tower over her. "Cut the crap, Malfoy." She said, crossing her arms and glaring at him, "Why are you really here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want to be Healed." He retorted sarcastically.

"Then why couldn't you get a different Healer? I can't turn down a patient, and I tried with you, but we both know you want nothing to do with me. I repeat, why are you here?" He sighed and looked at the ground, running his hands through his hair again.

"You are the only one with enough brains to help me. At least, you're the only one with brains who I trust not to torture me for what I've done." He admitted, still not meeting her eyes. With a jolt, she realized this was probably the first thing he's ever said to her in a civil – even respectful – tone.

"Well that's utter insanity." She sneered, "Why in the world would you think I'd be the only one not to torture you?"

"You forget, Granger." Malfoy scolded, "I grew up with you. I know what you're able to do, and what you're not even close to capable of."

"What, you don't think I have 'the balls' for it?" She mocked nastily.

"I never said that. I just know there's not enough darkness in you capable of generating enough power for an Unforgivable. That's why your dear friend, Potter, wasn't able to do it in the end." Malfoy said it like it was obvious, like she was just a little girl who didn't quite know what she was doing.

"And you forget, Malfoy." She said as she slid off her desk and walked around it, retrieving the unfinished paperwork from before. "I've grown up."

"No." He said with an odd tint to his voice, "I could never forget that." She looked up from her desk to meet his eyes, and noticed how completely controlled Malfoy kept his expression.

Author's Note: So this was written at midnight the night before my school resumes from fall break, all because my friend, Ioana (and editor, thank you dear), asked for (demanded) it. You're welcome. So we got some Draco in this chapter, whoop! I'm still, however, unsure on how I feel about it. Not my best, but it'll do. At least Hermione and Draco are trying to be civil, I suppose. How do y'all feel about Ron leaving? Tell me what you think, please! Reviews make me write faster(;


End file.
